Perspectives
by Mvctar Avrelivs
Summary: Through the eyes of those who fight, we will see why in the grim dark future, there is only war.
1. The Champion

"_They shall be my finest warriors, these men who give of themselves to me. Like clay I shall mould them, and in the furnace of war forge them. They will be of iron will and steely muscle. In great armour shall I clad them and with the mightiest guns will they be armed. They will be untouched by plague or disease, no sickness will blight them. They will have tactics, strategies and machines so that no foe can best them in battle. They are my bulwark against the Terror. They are the Defenders of Humanity. They are my Space Marines, and they shall know no fear."_

Those were the words of our immortal Emperor, describing His plans for us, His will for us. Even now, ten thousand years after they were first spoken, those holy words still send a chill down my spine, as does the very mention of 'Space Marine' sends chills down the spines of those who would defy His will- but they are chills of a far different sort. They are the chills of the unrighteous who know that their doom is upon them.

_For we are the Space Marines!_

There are worlds teeming with treachery, corrupted by heresies to the immortal Emperor. Worlds that have turned their backs on His holy will. Worlds that have turned their back on the Emperor's creed, or worse, given themselves in to the silent blandishments of Chaos. To the heretic and the traitor we bring not words of chastisement, not speeches to sway their hearts, no holy texts to remind them of the true way, for it is not within the heretic to turn back from their misbegotten path. To them we shall bring nought but justice.

_For we are the Space Marines!_

There are worlds crawling with various xenos infestations. There are the manipulative Eldar, who seek nothing more than to reduce humanity to nothing more than their cats' paws. There are their kin, the Dark Eldar, whose desires, though equally foul, are infinitely more simplistic in comparison- they simply kill to satisfy their twisted lusts. The green skinned vermin known as the Orks are no better, and may be considered even worse in their crude, slobbering, barbaric cruelty. There are the Necrons, rising from their Tomb Worlds to expunge all life. There are the Tau, whose high-minded fantasies would deny the Emperor's glory, and reduce humanity to another mindless cog in their Empire. And then there are the Tyranids, mere animals, who exist only to consume. We shall purge them from the galaxy, so that it may be made safe for humanity.

_For we are the Space Marines!_

We are the holy instruments of His will, His wrath made manifest, His benevolence given form, His hopes and dreams for humanity realized. Where there are heretics, and traitors, and xenos to be purged, to them shall we take the Emperor's retribution. Where there are worlds to be protected, citizens of the Imperium to be sheltered, then there shall we stand, a bastion against the darkness that would take them. Our lives mean nothing, save that they be spent in His service.

_For we are the Space Marines, and all that we are and ever will be, is for our Father_


	2. The Heretic

The Emperor.

For the Emperor. In the Emperor's name. His will be done. Our lives for the Emperor, et cetera, et cetera, _ad nauseam_. Don't you ever get sick of hearing that same old tired mantra again and again? I swear- it is just as annoying, and just as useless as a broken vox-recorder!

Very much like the Emperor they speak of, in fact.

sigh It brings tears to my eyes, it really does, whenever I think about those poor misguided fools in the Imperium. They accuse us of such crimes as heresy and apostasy, but even the dimmest retard of a misbegotten beast-child should realize that those terms can only be used when one sins against a God- and the last time I checked, a shattered corpse pinned to a pretty stool does not a God make.

Instead, they have the gall to call us deluded, even as we wave the evidence of true Gods in their faces. They point to us and call us mad, but is it madness to acknowledge the truth? The Imperium, quite amusingly in my humble opinion, resembles most an angry crone clinging desperately to the belief that she is as vital and as beautiful as she thought she once was, and her denial of the truth compels her to raise her gnarled walking stick and thrash those who disagree with her.

But even as she runs from reality, there will always be those following her with mirrors readied. And as the crone sees her reflection, she comes one step ever closer to the truth. It will not be gentle, and it will not be quick, oh no; she will resist, and bite and claw, and wave her cane, as she fights back. Until one day, when her pursuers will strip her naked, force her to look in their mirrors, and as she witnesses her wrinkled, decaying ugliness, she will descend into unbearable madness and anguish, her despairing shrieks her only companions as she falls and dies, lonely and insane, her faeces pooling at her feet, spittle trailing from her gasping mouth.

Hmm, such a pretty picture, don't you think? I think I'll relish it for a moment, if you don't mind.

Ah, done.

I know it sounds brutal- wicked, even. And perhaps on some level, it is. Such is the nature of Chaos. Should you spare the whip to a disobedient animal? Or the branch to the wilful child? No, of course not.

In the loving embrace of Chaos, there is freedom. Freedom to be the weak, and to become strong. Freedom from the chains of the Imperium. Freedom to exercise our lusts, and to have the lusts of others exercised upon you.

In the hands of the Warp, there is power. Power to change, and to be changed. Power enough to change the Universe.

But most of all, in the ever-changing tempest that is Chaos, I have found that which has eluded so many.

I have found


	3. The Outcast

Peace.

It is such a wonderful concept, but for a long time, a concept was all that it remained for me. The memories of the life I had lived are fast fading into joyful oblivion, but there is one thing I do remember.

I remember never having peace.

It was never with me, even in my quietest moments. From the moment I woke up to face yet another merciless day, the Universe assaulted me, overwhelmed me. Even in sleep, I found not peace, only a tortured release.

I was feared- and rightly so, although I did now know why, then. But I was not only the feared, but I myself, felt terror clutch at my heart. I felt terror at those whom I used to consider my kind.

I felt terror when they came for me, the agents of the race to whom I once belonged. They sought me out- I didn't know why. I knew nothing of their aims, save that their purposes suited them to keep me alive. Among your kind, I was a pariah.

I am sure you can appreciate the irony.

You understand now, don't you, why I feared?

I cannot remember how I managed to flee, only that I did. I cannot remember how I came to this world, but I did.

I cannot remember how they found me, but they did.

I cannot remember when they blessed me with the peace I had sought for so long, but they did.

You cannot possibly know how it felt like. You cannot possibly know how it feels like.

If you like, I could describe it to you.

It is nothing like I had ever imagined, and nothing like I believe you have imagined as well.

It is nothing like a rest of any kind; for even in a state of relaxation you are assaulted by the various tortures of the Universe. Your body pumps its fluids through you in streams of filthy liquids and excretions. The synapses in your brain and nerves fire endlessly in a never-ending mass of electrical shocks, denying you tranquillity just to keep you alive. Your heart beats in a maddening rhythm for that same purpose. The only hope you have is that every day, the cells of your body decay and die- and even that could take years.

Perhaps, I am wasting my time. After all, I and my kin will make sure you will experience it soon enough, the tranquillity of death, for we are the Necrons. We will liberate you from the pointless torture that is life, and grant you


	4. The Prisoner

Freedom? You're begging for your _freedom_? Pfeh, you'd lead one to think you've never had the skin burned off your back before! It really does not suit you, or me, or this place! After all, this is Commorragh! There is no other place in the galaxy that is more suited to the thrills of the flesh! And speaking of the thrills of the flesh, I wonder what happens when I do this…

You know, I'm really starting to enjoy your screams now. Do it again, please? Oh yes, I liked that one. Very nice. It's just that there isn't any pleasure in it, that's the problem with you humans! Don't you know that there is as much pleasure to be gained from pain as to be gained from- well, pleasure?

Don't tell anyone about this, but I had another slave in here earlier, a male of your species. He was surprisingly fun, in his animalistic crudity. All it took was a drink of a special hallucinogenic poison of my own devising, and I had him slavering for my attentions- which were quite thorough, if you would allow me a small boast.

Oh, I can still feel the way he moved within me, even chained to my bed as he was, even as the poison coursed through his body. It is a magnificent creation, my little concoction; as his ecstasy reached its peak, so did his death throes. I can still feel him thrashing and writhing within me, in a desperate attempt to grasp at what remained of his life. His final scream- oh, such music! Such glorious sensation!

Maybe I'll have another one brought to me after I'm done with you, what do you think? Hmm… maybe I will.

But that is in the future, and the future can be left to its own devices. Life's too short to think too long about what _may_ happen, or what _has_ happened. All that matters is what's happening now, correct? And what is happening now is that you and I are going to have a little more fun. Just let me get my instruments.

It's wonderful, you know, the life I lead. It is an endless round of pleasure, of sensation, again and again. The misguided worshippers of the Chaos Gods, especially those in the service of She-Who-Thirsts, claim to understand the true nature of pleasure, but they have no idea of what true appreciation of pleasure is like. When you get right down to it, they are just _mon-keigh _too, just like the rest of your kind; making plans, always restless, never once stopping to consider what an endless life of pleasure is truly like.

Sometimes I wonder why I would ever bother leaving my cell.

I find myself wondering that more and more these days, it seems…

Wait, your breathing- it's growing shallow! Oh, I hate you so much now _mon-keigh_, you know that? Thanks to you and your unforgivable lack of endurance, I'll now I have to make a decision on how to kill you. It's no fun, no fun at all, having to make decisions on how to stop one's pleasure, and although I know that you will deserve it, I wonder if I won't miss you…

But then again, maybe I won't. I won't know until I've tried, right? Now stay still, or you can keep thrashing about, whichever you prefer. After all, I think we both know that you're going to die, and there is nothing you can do to


	5. The Penitent

Make a difference.

That is all I want to do. That is all our people have ever wanted to do: make a difference.

Our race is dying, and has been for aeons. Long, long before you mon-keigh savages decided to infest the galaxy, we Eldar ruled the galaxy. Like you now, we thought we alone held divine sanction over the galaxy's fate.

And like you will, we learned that pride is its own punishment.

In a single blink of a cosmic eye, our worlds, once beacons of the light of civilization and enlightenment, were consumed by the darkness brought by our own conceit. Our race, created by the Gods as symbols of purity, now lies beset by our own corruption. Such is the crime we have committed, that we must pay the price for eternity.

But not all hope is lost, however; we have long since learned from our mistakes, and we now seek to correct them. We know of our sins, and we seek to make a difference- unlike the lesser races, you _mon-keigh_ among them, who, in your wilfulness, refuse to accept anything that does not fit in with your misconceptions of the universe.

Is it any wonder then, that we are forced to use the most underhanded, the basest of means just to survive? We are surrounded by the naïve and the arrogant, the cruel and the barbaric- how can you then tell us that we are wrong? That we deserve condemnation?

We Eldar have long since learned that to dedicate ourselves to one path of life would be dangerous, and we take pity on those who, through no fault of their own, find themselves unable to turn away from their paths- the Exarchs.

And yet we ourselves are a race of Exarchs, all dedicated to one path- the path of the Eldar. It is a sad, hard path, but one we must walk nonetheless. Not just for our survival, but for the survival of the galaxy, and it is a task that the lesser races must play a part in, whether they like to or not.

There are those races, you _mon-keigh _prime among them, who resist still our attempts to guide you, to save you. You look at us and call us manipulators and forked-tongued, you believe that we are just another race of 'xenos' who seek to hinder their ill-begotten and underserved dominance of the galaxy, but all that you are is proof that there are none so blind as those who would not see.

It is true that we seek to mislead and influence you, but so do your leaders- and our deceptions and manipulations are far less destructive than those of other races. It is true that we see you as lesser beings, and why not? Look at the galaxy you and the other races have created! Where the Eldar once spread civilization and peace, all others have spread nought but destruction.

In the end, you will realize that for all the harm we have and will cause you, it pales in comparison to the realization it was all for


	6. The Believer

The Greater Good! There can be no other choice, no other ideal! Other races spew and sputter their visions for the galaxy, but we Tau know that the only path that would benefit all others is the path of the Greater Good!

I do not need to provide proof of the superiority of the Greater Good, because the evidence is already there! In what doctrine of the brutal Imperium of Man would you find a path that preaches tolerance towards those who are not human? In what pretty Eldar speech would you find anything that would indicate that they see us as equal, or even deserving respect? The slaughter the Orks commit upon each other cannot be denied! And those who seek succour in the embrace of the Warp? They are forever lost to their base natures! Is it not evident then, that the only path forward is the Greater Good?

I look all around me, and what do I see? Not just my fellow brothers and sisters of the Four Castes, but I see too lanky Kroot- noble, strong and powerful, their 'savage' appearance belied by the nobility of the cause in which they serve! Above me, my Vespid friends fly through the air, their transparent wings reflecting both the glory of our star and the glory of the path that they follow! And in the streets, the sounds of our newfound Gue'la allies, splendidly clad in the garb of the Fire Caste, marching off to battle against the Imperium that had oppressed them for so long- does it not fill you too with hope?

I look now out into the sky, beyond the confines of our system, and I find myself overcome with pity for those who would deny the unstoppable march of the Greater Good! They would damn themselves and their whole race an eternity of peace and replace it with a lifetime of sorrow and pain! They would rather cling to their comfortable lies than face the unpleasant truth! They look, but they do not see! They hear, but they do not listen! They remember, but they do not think!

Do you not find it strange? Do you not find it mad that each of the other races would rather wage war against the whole galaxy, than see the truth that we bring them? Is it not foolishness in the extreme that would make you see enemies where the sane see allies? And what else could you call their jealous refusal to share power but the most churlish selfishness?

To those races I feel not hate, nor do I wish them harm as they wish it us. To them, I feel nothing but pity. I pity them that they do not see the truth and blessings of the Greater Good. I pity them that we must, in the name of the Greater Good, destroy them- for those who do not follow the path of the Greater Good, can else do nothing but cause it harm.

The path of war is not one that that I would wish, nor should it be desired by any of us, but it is a path forced upon us, and it is a path that we shall walk- if not with acceptance, then with grim determination! In the end, the fact that we do it not for purposes of power or conquest, but for the Greater Good absolves us of all sin, for there is no such thing as extremism in the pursuit of the Greater Good!

So come forth, my friends, my comrades! We cannot be lax in enforcing the Greater Good- in fact, even as we celebrate our newfound friends and allies within the Third Sphere expansion, we should be ever more vigilant that our great leap forward is accompanied more and more by the doctrines of the Greater


	7. The Swarm

_good_

passageway long dark see hear good _smells_

good meat good food good food consume consume _consume_

prey comes good smells darkness hide forward _hunt_

watch pounce teeth gnash claws thrash noise _blood_

_pain_

adversaries enemy danger _prey_

_pain_

flight fight run_ strike_

_pain_

blood blood blood blood blood blood _blood_

_pain_

prey hard-shelled strike harder strike faster_ kill_

_fire_

_pain_

heat hunger pain see fire _prey_

attack eviscerate _kill_

_fire_

_heat _

_pa-_

"You think we got all of them?" 

"By the Emperor, I hope so."

_hide_

_watch_


	8. Da Boss

Huntin 'umies down

Dere wern't nowhere dey could run

Shot 'em all, ha-ha!

* * *

But dat wuz yest'day 

An dere's nobody left 'ere!

Me mob needs a scrape!

* * *

Dis ere's me mob, yeah? 

No squig luverz or grotz- fink

I'll start me a WAAAAAAAGH!

* * *

Oi, yer Warboss 'ere! 

Get off yer arses, sqig luvverz!

'Cos I da Warboss!

* * *

'Ere we a-go-go! 

Goin' on da biggest WAAAAAAAGH!

Yeah, gonna have fun!

* * *

We'z 'avin' a WAAAAAAAGH! 

Gotz ta get me Boyz ready

Afterdat start stompin!

* * *

Me shootas? Got lots! 

Orl ovvum iz dead shooty!

Yep, gots 'nuff dakka!

* * *

Choppaz iz all ready 

Dere's wun fer each'a me Boyz

Gots Squiggy Bitz too!

* * *

Gots all kindsa trakks 

Gots wartrakks, guntrakks and wagons

An' lotsa red paint!

* * *

WAAAAAAAGH! WAAAAAAAGH! WAAAAAAAGH! WAAAAAAAGH! WAAAAAAAGH! 

Iz yeh Orks or grots?! LOUDER!

_WAAAAAAAGH! WAAAAAAAGH! WAAAAAAAGH! WAAAAAAAGH! WAAAAAAAGH!_

* * *

Don't care 'bout winnin' 

Don't care 'bout losin even

Fightin's just 'bout fun!

* * *

So den 'ere we go 

Ere we go, ere we go den

We'z gonna go WAAAAAAAGH!

* * *

We'z gonna go WAAAAAAAGH! 

We ain't gonna let up, an'


	9. The Heroes

We will not retreat. Reflexively, I lift my inferno pistol and look to the men. If I see even the barest trace of cowardice on one of them, I will not hesitate to shoot him. But there is no fear in their eyes, and I turn away, unwilling to let them see the shame I feel for suspecting them.

There are those who would question why I'm ashamed, and on the face of it, they'd be absolutely right to. This is a Penal Battalion, after all- but then again, I have served with the 1st Savlar Drop Regiment for quite some time now, and I should have known better. These men are not afraid of death, whether it be from my weapon or the enemy's; they have long since resigned themselves to oblivion. And so have I.

Our orders were to fall back, actually; there were too few Chimeras, too little time, and General Fontain wanted all the Guardsmen he could get for a counteroffensive. Heh- I'll bet you my Macharian Cross he'd be quite miffed to see the transport convoy set aside for us loaded instead with all the civilians we could fit in them. By the Emperor, we even piled them into our equipment trucks- it's quite surprising, you know, how much space a flamer and its fuel ration take up when you see it for the first time.

Warp take that arrogant bastard anyway- the way the men and I saw it, if he couldn't win a battle when he had the advantage of numbers, terrain, troops and vehicles (three weeks ago, when the heretics first rose up in rebellion), there was no way he'd be able to win now.

There were others, my fellow Commissars foremost among them, who warned us that even if we did survive the coming battle we'd all end up hanged as traitors for disobeying direct orders from my lawful superior. Like that would have persuaded me; I was born on Armageddon, I know a von Straab when I see one.

Besides, I knew for a fact that the General was desperate- his brother, a captain in the Navy, was executed for incompetence a month or so before the rebellion started. His family's fall in status after that, and his performance during the war, told us that his priorities weren't exactly focused on protecting the Imperium or its civilians.

The night before the evacuation, I woke up to find my Sentinel Commander holding my inferno pistol to my head, a massive sheaf of papers in her hand. They were signed statements from the regiment declaring their unanimous wishes to stay behind, and to have their transports given to civilians. I then showed her the orders I signed right before I went to sleep, authorizing exactly that.

Bastards. If I'm going to meet the Emperor, I'd like to do it without bags under my eyes, thanks you very much. I'm a Commissar- I have an image to keep up, damn it.

And so now, I find myself and my men in this ruined city, determined to buy as much time as we can for the transports to escape.

I know, I know- a Penal Legion? Placing the lives of others over their own? Yeah, and tell us one with Orks in, I know. Hells, the reason we're the '1st Savlar Drop Regiment' in the first place was because the men had managed to steal an entire shipful of grav-chutes- look, don't ask me how, they still wouldn't tell me. Besides, they stole an Inferno pistol and a Macharian Cross while they were at it, and those are not gifts you sneeze at. I _was_ with these men when they (oh, all right, _we_) stole Bjorn the Fell-Handed, though. I only admit this now because I know we're going to die- and besides, Bjorn had fun. That has to count for something, right?

They're coming closer now; I can hear their screams in the distance. With each victory (or rather, with each of General Fontain's failures) the heretic armies grew stronger, both from the demons they summoned with innocent blood, as well as from traitors from other Guard regiments.

I am proud to say that not one man in this regiment has turned. We may be criminals, every man jack of us, but we're not traitors. If I may be forgiven the conceit of including myself among these men, I would like to inform anyone who finds this missive that we do not have faith in the Space Marines, or the Inquisition, or whatever jumped up, power-armoured ponce with a medal the Administratum or Departmento Munitorum decides to throw at us.

But we have faith in the Emperor. And we have faith in the Imperium.

I saw a little girl earlier, while my men were unloading the trucks.

She couldn't have been more than six years old. She was wearing a small, pink dress that had seen better days, and she was crying for her mother to let her go; apparently, they left Mr. Woofles behind.

She was to be left behind herself; apparently, Fontain thought of all the civilians as (and I quote) 'combat-ready fanatics, ready to die for the Emperor', and told us to give them whatever weapons we could spare so _they_ could cover _our _retreat.

The sergeant of my Ratlings walked up to her. He told her everything would be okay, and that after we won the battle, we'd come back, and we'd have Mr. Woofles with us.

I'm glad we're staying behind.

They're coming now; the traitors are in visual range. I look back to the men again. Beside me are the Wardens, our regiment's elite soldiers. They're the only soldiers in plain sight. The rest of my men are in the buildings; urban combat is where the men and women of Savlar are best suited to fight.

I do not have to see their faces to know the hardships they have went through; like I said, this is a Penal Battalion, and this isn't the first battle we've seen, though it is the biggest and the last, that's for sure. But as my eyes sweep over our soon-to-be graveyard, I notice things about my soldiers, things I have seen before, and I will never see again.

I see discipline, where I should have seen bedlam.

I see composure, where I should have seen mindlessness.

I see true dedication, where I should have seen blind fanaticism.

I see humility, where I should have seen resignation.

I see determination, where I should have seen selfishness.

I see peace, where I should have seen terror.

I see faith, where I should have seen faithlessness.

I see nobility, where I should have seen filth.

I see these brave men and women, these ill-born, ill-fated scum of the Imperium, and I am both ashamed and thankful. I am ashamed that they would accept me, a Commissar of all people, as one of their own, and I am thankful to the Emperor that He had blessed me with their presence.

We are the 1st Savlar Drop Regiment. We are a Penal Battalion. For our crimes against the Emperor and the Imperium, we will pay for with our lives. We are the lowest scum of the Imperium's dregs.

And we know no fear.


End file.
